


Another Minute Buy

by Dirty_Corza



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Post Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-11
Updated: 2012-10-11
Packaged: 2017-11-16 02:57:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/534723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dirty_Corza/pseuds/Dirty_Corza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and some mates from the war go to sleep under the stars one last time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Minute Buy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Valeria2067](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valeria2067/gifts).



John paused at the top of the hill, looking over his shoulder, frowning at the shadow he couldn't see. He hitched his bag higher on his right shoulder, before turning his back on the shadowed grass, stealing one more quick glance before making his way down to the group of men waiting for him.

“Well, captain, we bein' followed?” That was Jake, one of the younger men in the group, a tease in his tone.

John laughed, tossing his pack down as he sat n the circle. “Only by the shadows of the past, but then again, isn't that why we're here?”

There were nods of agreement all around, a chorus of sad smiles, faces in harmony.

“To honor those that failed to make it home.”

“Aye!”

“To remember those we will one day join.”

“Aye.”

“And sleep under the stars, because it's a bloody fun thing to do.” That got the men to laugh again, what was left of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. John smiled at them, Jake, Sebastian, Donnie, and Lou. All those who had been in the country, those that were well enough to make the trip out to the hills.

“But before sleep, John. You promised a song. Said you had something in mind.” Sebastian spoke as he took out his guitar. “So, captain, what is it I'm playing today?” 

John looked around the shadowed faces, shifting nervously where he sat. “Always picking on me first, aren't you? Well. I hope you don't mind this one isn't all that happy-”

“As if it could be, considering.”

“-But I was thinking, Dust in the Wind. Because it's fitting, isn't it?”

They all nodded in agreement as Sebastian began to play, swaying in time to the music as the sun dipped down behind the crest of the hill leaving them in twilight.

John's voice was the first to break the near-silence. He poured his heart into the words he was singing, closing his eyes as tears threatened to fall as he remembered other men and women, comrades, friends, who had fallen before their time. It wasn't only those he had served with he was thinking of, though. As other voices joined his, he thought of the one he had lost most recently. A friend, someone so much more important than he had given himself credit for. Sherlock Holmes.

His eyes weren't open to see the shadow sitting on top of the hill, sitting just where he had stood not too long ago. No one was looking to see if anyone had actually been following them, but he could have sworn there was the sound of a violin joining their song, their farewell to those lost. 

John was the last to open his eyes when the music ended. He knew there were tears on his cheeks, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He expected someone to comment on it, but no one did. They all had lines of tears that had fallen, they all shared the pain of loss. That was why they were here, after all. To remember the pain they shared.

\- - -

Sitting on the crest of a grassy hill, Sherlock sat, tears trailing down his own cheek, violin laying forgotten by his side. He couldn't help the tears as they continued to flow. Tailing John had been a terrible idea, following him on this trip with the few comrades who were able to make it. Here, Sherlock had no city to run and hide in. His work was finally done, and here he was, faced with the sound of John's voice, unexpectedly beautiful, and far sadder than Sherlock had thought he would be out here with these men who made him laugh so easily, who reminded him of happier times.

There was nothing for it, really. Sherlock could feel his own heart breaking as he watched the group set up camp in the dark. Part of that pain John felt, was it really for him? He didn't know if he wanted it to be true, that traitorous thought. He didn't know if he'd rather that he had helped break John, or that John had gone on unaffected by it. All Sherlock knew was that either way, when he got up the courage to go face to face again, the memory of this night would weigh heavy on his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Valeria's prompt: John sings. It's gorgeous. Sherlock melts.


End file.
